


The First Night is The Hardest

by Chaotic_Cate



Series: Varian Desperately Needs a Hug [4]
Category: Rapunzel's Tangled Adventure (Cartoon), Tangled (2010)
Genre: Angry Varian (Disney), Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Claustrophobia, Comfort/Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Incarcerated Varian (Disney), Sad Varian (Disney), Varian Angst (Disney), Varian Has Issues (Disney), Varian Needs a Hug (Disney), Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:09:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27258463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaotic_Cate/pseuds/Chaotic_Cate
Summary: Varian's first night spent in prison is filled with anger, fear, dread, crippling sorrow, and... Andrew?Andrew had no interest in getting a cellmate- not to mention one who has barely put a dent in puberty- but that is exactly what he got.
Relationships: Andrew | Hubert & Varian (Disney: Tangled)
Series: Varian Desperately Needs a Hug [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1693492
Comments: 8
Kudos: 57





	The First Night is The Hardest

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! I'm back from my deep depression with a short little one shot that is deeply depressing!  
> ...You are what you eat...? No? Okay, yeah I didn't think so. 
> 
> Well anyway, I hope you enjoy!

Andrew awoke in his cell to the sound of steel toed boots meeting stone, as he often would. 

Guards patrolled the corridors day and night, just about every hour, he figured. The footsteps of particularly rough footed men would wake him, others not. Tonight- though easily mistaken for  _ one  _ due to the synchronicity- was a chorus of boots. That, plus one set of light scuffing footsteps and some clanking chains. Andrew sat up, curiously, and waited impatiently for the moment they walked by, eager to get a glimpse at what he assumed to be a new prisoner. Not a lot went on in the dungeon of Corona, so anything even mildly out of the ordinary was welcome. 

The footsteps grew closer and closer, until they were at last before him. But, they did not trudge on past as Andrew had naturally expected. Three guards stopped outside of his cell- a short and scrawny figure stood in the middle of them. His scowling face was just barely visible in the darkness. Andrew opened his mouth to ask what was going on, but before he had the chance, one of the guards boomed orders at him. 

“On your feet, Prisoner. Hands against the back wall.” he demanded. Andrew groaned, his questions hanging in the air. He swung his legs off the cot, and rose to his feet, reaching the back wall in less than a pace. He faced the wall and pressed his hands to the cold and damp stone on either side of his head. The next moment, he heard jingling keys, a turning lock (or several) and then the ear piercing screech of a door whose hinges rarely turn. 

Andrew looked over his shoulder as footsteps entered his cell. He saw a kid, barely 5ft tall, and shackled at the wrists and ankles. 

Androw turned his face back to the wall and threw his head back with a laugh. “What’s with the  _ kid _ ?” he chuckled. 

Without missing a beat, the same guard as before bellowed out “Quiet!” 

Andrew heard the kid give a small gasp and shook his head in disbelief. 

Peeking over his shoulder again, he watched as a lanky guard and a broad, mustached guard removed the kid’s shackles, as well as the weird accessories he wore. Goggles, apron, and elbow high leather gloves were all removed and handed off to the loud guard. The two did so with hesitancy, as if they were scared he’d break. Or maybe they were scared  _ of  _ him. Andrew disregarded that possibility. This kid looked like he’d lose a fight with a butterfly. 

Andrew watched with curiosity and admittedly, concern, as the boy attempted over and over to shrug the guards off or bat their hands away. There was minimal effort behind it, he just seemed irritated. His scowl remained concrete and his eyes bore into his shoes. Until, of course, the skinner of the two guards began removing the laces from his shoes. The boy shifted his gaze to a new spot on the floor. Andrew remembered with a pang when they’d done the same to him. Confiscating his vest and his shoelaces and all of his possessions. He felt a tiny surge of anger, as he often did when so blatantly reminded of his imprisonment, and he pushed it down. When the time comes, he’ll let the anger surface. But not yet. 

Varian gritted his teeth when Pete finished removing his laces, and began to pat him down. Varian flinched, and groaned what he wanted to be “don’t touch me” but only sounded like a groan. Pete glanced up at him, expression nervous, and he muttered “I’m sorry, I’ll be fast.” Before switching to his other leg. Then his groin and hips, making Varian’s breath quicken. Then his waist, underarms and sleeves. Pete and Varian both exhaled deeply when the search concluded. “All clear.” Pete breathed. The other guards took that as a cue to step out of the cell. The gruff one that Varian did not know was the one who closed the door. Varian didn’t turn back around for it. He didn’t want to watch the gateway to freedom slam in his face. He stayed exactly where they’d stood him. 

“Varian.” said Stan, once the cell was shut and locked. Varian begrudgingly turned just slightly toward the guard who spoke to him. 

Stan took that as his prompt to go on. “You’ll go to trial in a few days.” 

Varian offered no response. He turned away from Stan. 

As an afterthought, Stan added, “Get some rest, kid.” The guards dispersed. 

When the footsteps of the guards were finally just distant echoes, Varian scrunched his face and balled his fists, taking in a very shaky breath. 

A voice he’d forgotten was present cut through the darkness, “So, ‘Varian’, is it?”

Varian yelped and jumped practically a foot in the air. 

“Woah, sorry kid. Didn’t mean to spook you!” The other prisoner chuckled, now seated on the edge of the cot opposite where Varian stood. “I’m Andrew.” He said, extending his hand. 

Varian did not shake Andrew’s hand. He simply peered at it, then stared Andrew down with a glare the older man was shocked he had managed at all. 

“I’m  _ not _ a kid.” Varian said, making him sound very much like a kid. 

Andrew raised his eyebrows. “Oh? How old are you, Varian?” 

Varian’s cheeks flooded with blush, and he turned on his heel- beginning to pace. 

Andrew, tired of the dead air, spoke again. “Okay, so you don’t feel like talking. That’s  _ fine. _ ” he said, despite being dreadfully curious about the peculiar young boy. “I’ll be here when you do.” He added, somewhat tauntingly, before laying back down on his cot. 

Varian ignored the comment, and paced. Bars, wall, back again. It took just a few steps each time. Varian felt claustrophobic. He needed some air. That was when he noticed the lack of any windows in the cell, and how truly dark it was. 

Varian ran his bare fingers through his hair, tugging a little as he went, and gritting his teeth. His heart thudded hard in his chest. 

He couldn’t just  _ stay _ here! Stagnant! While his father’s survival was a battle against time. 

Varian didn’t allow himself to consider that he very likely had already lost that battle. He may have lost it the very moment the amber encapsulated him. Varian shoved away the thought of his father taking his final breath while Varian trudged through snow. The dungeon’s chill felt familiar in the worst way. 

Andrew’s voice attempted to interrupt his thoughts once again. “Can you  _ sit down? _ You’re creating a draft.” The man said, with the wave of a hand simulating the  _ draft _ he spoke about. 

“Shut up.” Varian muttered, still lost in thought and pacing the cell’s width. 

No, he would not  _ sit _ . Varian had so much more work to do. He was wasting his time here!  _ They _ were wasting his time! They  _ wanted _ his father dead! His father knew the king's secret, and so now they’ve locked Varian away so that he  _ can’t _ save his father, and the king's precious secrets would die with them both! In the amber and at the gallows. Varian felt his stomach churn at the thought of his own execution. This was the first he’d thought about what actually lied ahead for  _ him _ . 

As Varian paced, he felt his hand creeping up to his own neck. The touch of his fingertips to his neck prompted something unforeseen. Varian clapped a hand over his mouth, stifling a hiccuping sob. Varian quickly turned all the way around, his back to his cellmate. Another sob escaped him. Varian’s hands shook. Everything hit him like a train. His dad, his future, his friendships- all gone. He had nothing. Ruddiger had been shooed away at the entrance to the dungeons. Rapunzel, Cassandra, Eugene and everyone else he’d once called a friend, would never want to speak to him again- nor did _ he _ want to speak to  _ them-  _ he had to remind himself. 

Varian crawled shakily onto the empty cot before him. He rolled onto his side, so his back was to Andrew, and he curled himself into a ball as tightly as he could. The tears were unstoppable now. 

After the snowstorm, he’d cried for three days straight. Once he’d finally ran out of tears, he got to work. He hadn’t cried since. Now, he’d opened a gate he wasn’t sure he’d be able to shut. His entire self shook with hysterical, hyperventilating sobs. The flat thing they tried to pass off as a pillow worked to muffle them some, but not enough. 

Andrew, having had quite enough of the racket that didn’t seem to stop, finally cracked. He swung his legs out of bed, seeing the boy for the first time since he’d halted his laps of the cell and crashed onto the cot. Andrew- fully prepared to knock the little whiner into a nice snooze- froze. Andrew rolled his eyes. He hated feelings. _ Just this once, _ the man vowed to himself. 

Andrew crouched down next to the kid’s cot, where he lay like a little ball. 

In as gentle of a voice he could, Andrew said “Hey, you okay there?”

Varian’s shaking form froze. The kid sniffed. “I’m fine. S- sorry. I- I don’t know why-” Varian felt humiliated, and began to ramble- but Andrew promptly stopped him.

“Hey, hey! Don’t be sorry. The first night is always the hardest.” He said, speaking from his own experience. 

Varian swallowed. He nodded his head, saying nothing else. Andrew nodded too, even though Varian wasn’t looking. He chewed the inside of his cheek, then said, “Alright. Well, once again- if there is anything you want to talk about, I’ll be here.” Andrew said, rising back up and retreating to his own bunk. 

Varian’s terrible wracking sobs turned into a quieter chorus of sniffles, whimpers and hiccups. Not great, but better. Andrew decided he could catch up on sleep  _ any _ time. He’d let the kid wallow for  _ one _ night. 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in one sitting starting at 12am, and I am here posting it at 1am. (Which is very quick for me.)   
> I have never cared for Andrew, and I still think he is ultimate garbage, but this idea popped in my head and it demanded to be written.   
> I would LOVE to hear what you all thought of it, so drop a comment before you go!


End file.
